A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing
by HallowHandses
Summary: Harry, being brought from the Dursleys, finds himself in the wondrous Wizarding World. It's the one light in his life. But everything's not as it seems because when a light is lit, shadows tend to jump out at you. AU. Rated T for now.
1. Introductions

He could hear them screaming and shouting. They ran around and around, their little hearts beating with surprising ferocity. Their faces contorted in ways that tugged at his heart. They, a brother and sister, were playing in the front yard, and he, Harry, was playing in the front yard. It was just that the siblings played games, and the solitary child played with the flower bed. He dug deeper into the earth, a fire burning within him. He could hear them shout out and felt the joy pierce the walls that he had carefully set up.

They were strangers—people that he didn't know both on a surface level nor intimately—and yet, they managed to hurt him so much. Without realizing it, they had just thrown salt and vinegar on open wounds. It was that damned carelessness and joy, wasn't it?

 _ **SHUT UP. SHUT UP. SHUT UP.**_

He took a shuddering breath and redoubled his efforts to fix his Aunt's flowerbed. He weeded the flimsy weeds from the ground, crushing the life out of them, and making it so that only the best things in the flower bed remained.

He did his best to shut his ears off, focusing on the task at hand. His mind went blank, dulling the throb of boredom and hatred in his mind. He could feel his mind suffocate under the blanket that he'd just thrown over it. Menial work was such a great way to suppress it, for the time being. That's all he needed.

After a while, Harry stood up and dusted off the tattered remains of his pants. Picking up the tools, he cleaned the area and removed any evidence of his presence.

 _Out of sight, out of mind._

He could remember his aunt berating him. With soft footsteps, Harry entered through the backdoor.

He washed his hands and wore new tattered hand-me-down. He went to the kitchen, surrendering his mind to his Aunt's lessons, and started to cook. His fingers danced with the utensils, creating works of art that would go under-appreciated. He smiled as the aromas assaulted his nose. All that he had to do was not to think of what would happen afterward.

With that, a dark thought dared to enter his mind. Harry's eyes flicked towards the cupboard.

 _Mmm-hmm. That's my home._

His cupboard. Shudders travelled down his spine as he retreated from the sight and set his eyes firmly on the food in front of him. His singlemindedness took over, shoving those _other_ thoughts into a deep pit.

It didn't matter that he could feel the pit steadily filling up. It was simply better if they were tucked away.

* * *

 _Tick-Tock. Tick-Tock._ Harry found himself thinking about clocks, having made close friends with one in his time at the Dursleys. It stood just outside his door as his silent guardian. A grandfather clocked the chimed at every hour of every day. It was one of the many things that ruled his life.

A cage of limbs trapped Harry in the middle of the station; the walls of Men pressed in on him. He had a palpitating heart and not even a defibrillator could fix it.

Tick. Tock.

Not time was left as a pit of anxiety slowly pulled him downwards—an animal trapped in a pit of quicksand. Harry struggled against it, desperately doing his best to get out, but he was sucked down even faster. The longer he spent running from anxiety, the faster it overtook him.

Tick. Tock.

Harry fought the losing battle as more people started to crowd around him. He was supposed to be safe here, wasn't he? Safe from the Dursleys, on his way to the Wizarding World. He'd been given a reprieve, and what? He'd just squander it?

DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNG!

The once silent clock in the train station struck its bell, marking another hour. It was 10 o'clock. He had an hour left. With the sound still in his ears, Harry found the strength to shove his emotions into that pit of his.

 _Get a hold of yourself you fucking bastard._

Making a conscious effort to force his body to move, Harry pushed the trolley and parted the sea of mixed colour, glancing down at the slip of paper in his hand.

"Platform 9 ¾," it said. It whispered thoughts of hope and freedom as well.

Muttering the number again and again under his breath, Harry retreated back into the single-mindedness he'd developed.

 _Clean the dishes, wash the clothes, find the Platform._

His mind no longer wandered, having been given a new purpose. His single-mindedness forced him to make his way through this industrial jungle. The trains, nay, the _footsteps_ thundered in the background while the whistles of the trains—the kettles—kept him focused.

Harry fought for that focus that he desperately desired. In no time, Harry found himself at Platform 9, and his obsession melted away. Looking back down at the paper, confusion slipped into his mind. There was no sign for 9 ¾. There were only signs for Platforms 9 and 10.

Making his way closer to Platforms 9 and 10, confusion birthed panic. Confusion and panic waltzed together, making their way around his mind.

He was back in that damned room, shaking in fear with each footstep that resonated throughout the house's interior. Again, he had to shove these thoughts back down into their cages as he forced himself to look for patterns, for things that he could use.

An idea hitting him, he found himself parking his trolley against a pillar.

He placed his hands against a pillar, ignoring the strange looks that he was getting. He could feel the pillar humming, vibrating with…magic.

For once, it felt liberating to use magic for something other than cuts and bruises.

Reaching into the stream of magic, he found something interesting in one of the pillars near Platform 10. There lay a massive portal on one side of the pillar. His lips curled into a smile. It was an entrance, wasn't it?

Harry let go of the pillar and wiped the dust off his hands. Through the portal he went,

Harry found himself surrounded by a good deal of people dressed in long flowing robes.

 _Magicals._

It was an odd change, and a bit disorienting, but he could get used to it.

Managing to find his way through the crowd, Harry could feel this weight in the air around him. It was an interesting thing, to feel the very air of a place saturated with magic. Harry could feel his mind singing which was odd as...

* * *

…her surroundings were aesthetically uninteresting. No one could blame her for saying that as despite being lavishly decorated, she'd lived here all her life. She sat in the parlour, feeling that dull throb of boredom at the edge of her mind.

After all, all of her things had been packed and sent to Hogwarts via House Elf, and now she was just in the foyer. She was only waiting for Tracey to finish getting ready and to come downstairs. Apparently, her friend was obsessed with appearances. Who knew? Tracey Davis, the brunette who rarely wore makeup and never took the time to pick out her clothes, but she really didn't need it anyways. She was certainly pretty enough.

Daphne sighed, opened her bag, and reached in for a book. There were only a few things that kept her preoccupied in the house, and one of those things would be the books. Hundreds and hundreds of books in the Greengrass Library, detailing everything from arithmetic to history. There were basic books on maths and magic. And, oddly enough, there were books on Muggle science and history as well. She had read nearly all of these books for the past twelve years, absorbing each and every single word.

But of course, few people knew that. Actually, not that many people actually knew much about her despite the fact that she had become 'friends' with them. Of the people that she knew, only Tracey who was privy to the things in her life. Another person, her uncle, was the one who'd hired tutors over the years and left her to the library.

Trying to steer her mind away from her Uncle, she flipped open to a spell. She'd opened to the Levitation Spell, and it was in the seventh chapter. Perhaps not the best thing to try to tackle in a few minutes, but she decided to at least try. After all, there were books in her library which detailed basic spells like the Wand-Lighting Charm, Unlocking Charm, and the sort. She could never find any more advanced spells, so long ago, she'd come up with the idea that her Uncle was controlling the things in her library, reserving said spells for her later years.

That was an idea so likely that it had sent a jolt of frustration coursing through her body. Of all the things, her Uncle just had to take control of one of the few things in life that he didn't control. He just _had_ to find another way to control her after forcing her to learn all of that fucking _trash_.

The rabbit hole was starting to go places she didn't want to, so she took control of that train of thought and let it crash and burn. She'd deal with it later—now was certainly not a good time. Closing her eyes, breathing deeply, she grabbed her wand.

The spell.

It was a simple swish and flick of the wrist. Daphne enunciated the words as the book instructed her to.

Pointing the wand at the book, she felt her magic flow out of her. It floated with ease. It was as if it were an extension of her hand for Daphne could 'feel' the book. She was manipulating the very laws of nature.

Daphne heard someone coming. Quickly, she tucked the wand away and grabbed the book before it dropped to the ground, hastily putting it in her bag. It was her uncle and Tracey, her favourite brunette.

"Ready, Daphne?" Uncle strode towards the Floo, grabbing a bit of powder before pausing and turning to look at his daughter.

Straight back, neutral face. Don't meet his eyes, walk with purpose. Exactly as Uncle had said.

"Yes, Uncle." Daphne put the book away into her satchel and stood next to Tracey.

Daphne's uncle said nothing in response. No wishing of good luck nor a goodbye as it was unnecessary. He cast the powder into the Floo and spoke clearly, stepping aside with his feet apart and hands behind his back. Daphne, knowing what he wanted, walked into the fire and flew through the Floo system. A few seconds later, she found herself at Platform 9 ¾. She stepped aside, making room for Tracey who came through.

"Is…my uncle coming through?" A tinge of hesitation appeared in her voice, scared to even ask that question.

Tracey smiled. "Nope."

Daphne felt relief surge through her; she suppressed the small smile that threatened to break out on her face. After all, it would only disappear under the overwhelming wave of pain that would come later.

"Well," Daphne started as if she had said nor heard a thing, "we should find a seat, shouldn't we?"

"Yeah."

They walked towards the train, people saying hi to the two of them. Daphne recognized most of them—it was kind of hard not to when they kept coming over to her house because her uncle wanted her to keep meeting up with them. Tracey and Daphne had just entered the train when the blonde noticed something. "Are you sure that you put on makeup? You look the same."

"Hey, I did!"

Daphne suppressed a smile at her friend's indignance. "Really? I'm rather sure that you just spent most of the hour up there just trying to figure out which thing does what." Daphne glanced at her as they walked through the train. None of the compartments were empty. They'd come in too late.

Tracey rolled her eyes. "Shut up."

Daphne let the small smile break out on her faced. "I'm serious. What happened to your face?"

"Now it's as if something attacked my face!"

"And it really looks like it did. A grindylow perhaps, or a griffin?" The smile grew just an infinitesimal amount.

"Just shut up," Tracey said, narrowly avoiding a trolley. "What the bloody hell are these people doing?"

"I would say…pushing their trolley?" Daphne asked, questioning Tracey's intelligence. Tracey swatted Daphne's shoulder. "That hurt!"

Tracey then said, "Good. Maybe now you'll shut up." A grin had appeared on the brunette's face.

Daphne merely rose an eyebrow but said nothing. There seemed to be an empty compartment at the end of the hallway they were in which was something that the two of them wanted. There were things that weren't supposed to be said in front of others. When Daphne saw that there was a Wizard in there once she came close, she shrugged her shoulders. It didn't seem like there were other compartments that were as empty as this one.

"I go in first?" Tracey asked, a glimmer in her eyes.

Daphne scoffed. " _No_ , this is where I spontaneously decide to greet a random stranger. Of course, you go in first! You're better at these things."

"Says the person with all the friends," Tracey said, smiling. The smile disappeared as she saw Daphne start staring at her, and the brunette winced.

"It's…fine." Daphne closed her eyes, barely managing to remove the memory from her mind.

"I don't think it is, Daph. Do you wanna look somewhere else?" Tracey asked. Her eyes were overflowing with concern.

Daphne shook her head. "We're probably not going to find another compartment as empty as this one." There was a pregnant pause as they stood right outside of the Wizard's view. Deciding to break the silence between them, Daphne asked, "Should we go in?"

"We should." And with that, Tracey slid the door open and came face to face with a boy whose…

* * *

…book snapped shut; Harry's reading session was interrupted by a latch that clicked and clacked. Through the open door, there was a blonde and a brunette, though something was off about the former.

"Yes?" Harry queried, keeping his eyes from staying on the blonde for far too long. Possible conversation topics raced through his mind, just to maintain his 'confidence.' He knew what to and what not to say, how to cook the right dish by adding the right ingredients into the mix.

But there was some unknown ingredient in this, something that impaired the ability to cook properly. Something had gotten inside his head, taking over and forcing his attention on the blonde. To him, she wore a dress of blinking lights. Harry just barely managed to focus on what the brunette was saying.

"…sit here?" she said.

" _All_ other compartments are full?" Split into two sides, his mind had to make a decision.

 _ **GET RID OF THEM.**_

"Yep. And since—"

Harry cut her off, feeling the silent promises of friendship in her voice. No need to waste her breath, right? "Sure, I'm fine with it. It's free game, isn't it?" He forced a smile, the best approximation of a natural one, as the lie passed through his teeth. He liked the shock in both their eyes—the brunette at his interruption and the blonde, perhaps at recognition or the fact that he seemed to budge over so quickly.

 _She can see through it._

"When you put it that way," the brunette started, "I guess you could say that."

Interestingly, blonde had said nothing so far. Not a word nor a gesture, just a steady stare at him. Harry felt his smile turn into a smirk as he saw her gasp slightly. "You've guessed, haven't you?"

The blonde didn't bother answering the question and confidently said, "You're Harry Potter."

"Sadly." A slight tilt of his head and shrug elicited a semblance of shock from the blonde. "Now you know my name…"

"Daphne. Daphne Greengrass" The blonde curtly responded and gestured to the brunette. "And she's Tracey."

"You know, I've been wondering if someone put a sticker on me? Perhaps a sign? Maybe one those neon signs," Harry added as they sat down. "I just wonder how people keep guessing that I'm Harry Bloody Potter."

"Could it be the fact that you've got a scar on your head?" Daphne asked, a slight sarcastic edge to her tone.

Harry laughed. His ears hurt when that sound—nails scraping a chalkboard—reached his ears.

 _That wasn't even funny, Potter._

"So _that's_ how people kept guessing my name. Well, that's as good as a sign, isn't it?"

It was Daphne's turn to laugh. It was bubbly and cold. "Perhaps it is."

"Are you ready to go to Hogwarts?" Perhaps Harry could start a conversation with her—to find out what was so special about her.

Daphne shot him a look, politely questioning his intelligence. "Would I be on this train if I wasn't?"

"That was a stupid question, wasn't it?" Harry asked, a genuine smile creeping across his face.

The witch nodded, lips slightly curved upwards. For a moment, silence blanketed the compartment, and the cold crept under his skin.

 _Why didn't I get rid of them?_

Tracey broke the silence. "So, Harry…" her voice trailed off before returning, "which House do you think you're going to get in to?"

"I'd be hoping Ravenclaw or Slytherin." It was an instantaneous response. After all, these were the two Houses prided themselves on knowledge and information. The other two houses were interesting, but not wholly so…only if the books were to be trusted.

Tracey nodded, obviously processing this information. "You know, the one House that I don't wanna be a part of is Gryffindor."

"Why?"

She started a list, putting a finger up. "First, Slytherin and Gryffindor are historic enemies." Another finger went up. "Second, I'm really attached to _her_ ," she pointed at Daphne, "'cause she's my friend, and she definitely won't go into Gryffindor. Don't ask." A third finger rose. "Finally, I've got parents who've got plans for me in the future."

Understandable, wasn't it? Harry was quiet for a moment before opening his mouth to speak. Instead it was forced shut by the sudden jerking of the train.

"Seems like we're leaving," he said instead.

Of course, Daphne then took the opportunity he'd made. "You have such a talent for stating the obvious."

"Well," he mirthlessly smiled, "I do my best. It's really hard, you know, for me to state the obvious because in my experience, I'm typically the person to ignore it."

Daphne took the bait. "How? Doesn't seem like you've got much trouble doing it now"

"I mean, look at when I was one. I was the last person to notice that there was a Dark Lord in my _room_. Even after everyone else died, I just stayed there—should've run, should've fought, should've showered him in my heroic tears, but I just stayed there because I didn't notice that there was a _big bad Wizard in my room_ ," Harry said with a straight face. "Oh, and I was a bloody idiot."

Tracey was already chuckling halfway through and that last bit earned a smile from her friend.

"You really hate the fame, don't you?" Tracey asked once everything had died down.

 _You just_ _ **had**_ _to make it fucking obvious? Just had to make it easy for people to read you._

Harry felt something somersault within him. "Was it the disparaging comments that gave it away? I can give you some more if you want…"

"I'm good," she said as she smiled. "Enough to last me until tomorrow."

And oddly, Harry didn't take offense to this. With that, they all fell silent when Tracey started talking with Daphne about clothes or something. Harry moved to get his book but was rudely interrupted.

The door was swung open and shut closed, the latch clicking and clacking once more. It was a boy with olive skin.

"Blaise?" Daphne asked with a raised eyebrow, "Why so late?"

"There were some _family_ complications," he managed to get out before he sat down, closed his eyes, and expunged the pain via his mouth. "You know, all that crap with my Mum and 'Dad.'"

Daphne hummed in interest. "What happened this time?"

"Oh, some unfortunate accident while flying a broom across the plains of Scotland," he said, meeting her eyes steadily.

"She's gonna run out of options soon," Tracey butted in.

Blaise muttered a careless "eh." Then he said, "Honestly, I don't give a fig about what's happening."

The Witches nodded, just like it was normal that his mother was killing men left and right.

"And who're you?" asked the olive-skinned Wizard.

 _Here we go…_

Harry grinned before making his scar visible.

He looked for the tell-tale signs of awe—the widened eyes, the sudden gasp, and the rise in the head—but he was disappointed. Instead he was just greeted with a nod of the head and a question.

"Do you remember when you got it?"

 _Huh. That's new._

Harry rose an eyebrow and was about to answer before Daphne decided to cut into the conversation.

"Blaise, come on. He was a year old—a baby! Do you remember what happened when you were just a few years old?" The Wizard shook his head. "And why in the world would you ask that question anyways?"

Blaise seemed to struggle between scrutinizing her and rebutting her. Instead, he chose to then say, "Sorry. Just popped into my head."

"The day that happens is the day that Tracey becomes a master at makeup," Daphne muttered.

"Hey!" The brunette exclaimed to Daphne's amusement.

"It's fine," Harry said, then he turned to Daphne with a smirk. "And thank you for defending my honour."

She smiled sheepishly and shrugged. "All I can say is 'you are welcome.'"

And with that, Harry found himself being catapulted back into the world that he had been so rudely removed from. The others were talking, but he didn't pay much attention to them.

* * *

 **A/N** : I would say that's a good start. Future me will regret posting this, but I'm currently happy with how this turned out. This'll be a more contained story than that...clusterfuck I wrote last year. On that note, I'll say that there'll be a few similarities between this story and that one.

Sorry if the scene transitions are jarring. There'll be less of those in the future.

Giving credit where it's due, I took a page out of SquareRootBeer's story (10084910) with the thoughts, and I took another page out of "What Happens When the Stars Go Out" by TheJesseClark (from Reddit) with the weird scene transitions between Daph and Harry. My iterations of both weren't as good, I've to admit, as the original. But I liked the concepts, and they were fun to write.

I promise to take my time with this story and put some genuine effort into it. As always, critique is welcome.

HHS


	2. The Sorting

Chapter 2

Daphne left the compartment, Tracey following closely. She had immediately left the moment that the train had stopped for there was no particular need to talk to either Zabini or Harry Potter. Someone tapped her shoulder.

"You've got a crush on him, don't ya?" Tracey smirked, eyes glinting as that subtle blush of Daphne's.

The blonde in question chuckled as they headed towards the exit. "What?"

"You've got a crush on him, Daph," Tracey said in such a sweet tone.

"No, I don't! Why would you think that?"

Tracey _mmm_ -ed thoughtfully. "It's 'cause you did all that stuff with Blaise _and_ you defended Harry—and knowing you, that's pretty unexpected."

"Zabini asked a stupid question which made him an easy target." Daphne squeezed through the exit. "After all, he asked Harry if he remembered getting the scar from _Him_ ," she added, "who killed his parents! Why in the world would he ask that?" Her grew louder and louder, drawing the attention of others.

"Calm down, I'm not accusing you of anything Daph." Tracey's tone was amused but steady

"I _am_ calm. I'm simply emphasizing the Blaise's stupidity."

"Harsh, much?"

"Harry was a year old." Daphne stopped and turned to Tracey who didn't stop. The brunette grabbed her friend's hand and pulled her along, forcing the irate blonde to turn around.

"Think about something else other than that, Daphne." Daphne escaped Tracey's grip, staying on her toes.

"Like?" Daphne challenged Tracey.

"Maybe the beds you and Harry are gonna be in together, maybe it'll take just a year or two." Tracey laughed as the Daphne stopped and her mouth just plopped open, ready for any bugs looking for a new home.

At the same time, embarrassment blossomed all over her porcelain face which made Tracey laugh even harder.

Tracey walked over and closed Daphne's mouth, patted her on the cheek, and said, "Now, don't let anything fly in, Daph. I'm sure that you don't want a fly crawling down your throat."

Daphne swatted Tracey's arm, face still red as the fading sunset in the distance. "Shut up!"

Thankfully, a voice far deeper than any ordinary Wizard's cut through the general chatter of the Hogwarts students and through Tracey's laughter. Daphne turned to see the voice and saw a massive _creature_ in the guise of a Wizard, perhaps a man. It stood around eleven feet tall and neared around six feet across with tattered clothing and unkempt hair. He instructed the First Years to head towards the boats.

Daphne took the lead, somehow nicking a boat despite the fact that most of the First Years were already in the boats. Perhaps she and Tracey had talked for a bit longer than she'd anticipated. Then she noticed the green-eyed legend that she'd defended oh-so-valiantly in the train. He was walking, eyeing the boats with what she could describe as mild hesitation. Why? He couldn't be…

* * *

…nervous, Harry knew that he'd have to replace that feeling with something else. He grasped his wand tightly as it were a life-line. Magic flowed through it, humming like a radiator.

 _Come on, I know that it's coming soon. Come on…_

Harry could feel a wave of calm and nonchalance roll over him, causing his mind to stop screaming and take everything in properly.

 _There it is._

Knowing he should hurry, Harry briskly made his way out of the train and joined the masses. A deep bellowing voice echoed throughout the forest. He could remember the way that it had spoken softly to him, offering a reprieve in the middle of a literal storm.

 _I owe him._

The realization took root, taking him by surprise. He turned the idea over and over, feeling himself agreeing with it more and more. After all, the man had saved him from Hell.

Without thinking, he made his way towards Hagrid's voice before noticing something. He had only glanced at the other students around him, but there was something peculiar that he'd seen. It was their robes. Some robes were embroidered with blue and silver while others were green and silver. Others had been embroidered red and yellow, and a few were yellow and black. Was it just an aesthetic choice?

Harry contemplated it for a bit before realizing that there were only four combinations of colours. Four combinations and four Hogwarts Houses. This was how students recognized House-mates.

Hagrid's voice broke through his thoughts. "Firs' Years over here!" He was gesturing towards a separate path that led to a ginormous lake and several wooden boats. "Hey, Harry. How're yeh?"

"Good." Harry smiled.

"Makin' friends, are yeh?" Hagrid laid a hand—a sack of potatoes—on Harry's shoulder which caused the Wizard to stagger slightly.

Harry nodded. "Yes, I've made a friend, maybe two."

"Tha's good. Guess yeh should get in-ter the boats. There shouldn' be more'n four to a boat." Hagrid then straightened himself and repeated that last sentence in a louder voice.

Harry, suppressing his smile, strode towards the boats. His goal: get into an empty boat. A boat full of people presented him with certain…problems.

As he walked, a soft voice cut through the chatter. "Hey Harry, sit with us?"

He turned and, to his surprise, it was Daphne.

 _Why? You already confronted the Wizard-Whose-Mother-Kills, so you don't owe me anymore._

Harry found himself nodding and, moments later, he found himself sitting in a boat with the Witch and her friend.

With all intention to simply sit there as he didn't know what to say or do, Harry looked out across the lake. The word 'beautiful' didn't do justice to it. It was as if it had been pulled straight from a fantastical fictional world. The lake was breathtaking.

 _A mirror which trapped stars that twinkled futilely against their invisible bonds._

As if hearing his thoughts, Daphne asked "Beautiful, right? I've never seen anything like it."

"Nor have I," Harry said, taking a glance at her and it took all of his willpower not to glance at her again. There was something about her, whether it be her hair, her voice, or her eyes, that continued to capture his attention.

 _God, just_ _ **STOP**_ _._

He stared down at the lake and found himself lost in the wavy plain. There were hundreds of dark patches scattered throughout, hidden…and he could find his darker fantasies playing out. Closing his eyes, he scrubbed his mind clean. It simply wouldn't do to have the past creeping into this new world. The sun was setting and the moon was shyly peeking out of a thin veil of clouds.

He suddenly became self-conscious, hyper-aware of his presence in the boat with him. Feeling this sinking feeling, he couldn't help but ask: "Why'd you invite me?"

Daphne responded without batting an eye. "I wanted to slit your throat and desecrate your corpse by throwing it in the water."

 _Oh, we're going to be playing_ _this_ _game._

The Wizard couldn't help but chuckle. It was said in _such_ a serious tone. "Huh. Anything else you'd like to do? Maybe make a cup from my skull? Nail me to a cross and set it on fire?"

It was Daphne's turn to laugh. "With those suggestions, I think I'd tie you up and bring you along as I search for another poor soul to come along." She was silent for a moment, obviously looking for another topic to discuss. "You've read Hogwarts: A History before?"

"Yeah," Harry answered, not bothering to pursue his original question—perhaps it was for the better. "How'd you know?"

"Kept skipping pages on the train."

Harry nodded. "Well, I had nothing else to do, and I wanted to refresh my memory on some parts of Hogwarts."

"Makes sense." She fell silent once again before a glint appeared in her eyes. "Did you really save that girl from that den of vampires?"

 _Where are you getting at, Greengrass?_

Harry's eyebrow rose. "What?"

"Yeah, I've heard of what you did," Daphne said, her tone matter-of-fact. "You saved children from that band of Russian werewolves, tamed that chimera, and fought a dragon." She paused for a bit as Harry's confusion grew with each passing second. "I've also heard about that time when you believed that I was being serious." She gave up the act, bursting into a brief fit of quiet laughter. "You should've seen your face."

Harry's confused face turned into a smiling one. Chuckling and noticing Tracey's raised eyebrow, he said, "Good one, Daphne. How'd-"

"-I think of those things?" She finished, eliciting a nod from the wizard. "You've really got to visit one of those children's bookstores in Diagon Alley. They've got novels upon novels of the 'Great Harry Potter.'"

"Really?"

"Mmm-hmm. You should have a listen to the Magical radio too—it's even better." Her eyes were uncharacteristically bright all of a sudden. The tone she spoke in was different too. It wasn't as cold as before. What had changed?

"Do you know any good spells?" Daphne asked out of the blue.

 _Careful what you say, Potter, she's gonna use it against you at some point._

"Well," Harry hesitated, "perhaps a few. I _am_ Harry Potter after all."

"Who would have guessed? Could you show me one?"

"Here?" Harry's eyebrow rose once again. "In front of all these people? I'd rather not—it'll get their attention."

"Oh, you're _that_ kind of person. Maybe we could arrange a _private_ show when we get to the castle. What do you think?" She kept a straight face before suddenly bursting out in soft laughter. Harry joined her, noting the glance Tracey threw at her. The blonde didn't seem to notice, though.

 _How interesting._

"Maybe. And it probably depends on which House we're getting into," Harry said. He opened his mouth to say something else but quickly shut it when a girl sat in the boat. It was a brunette with bushy hair and large teeth. Harry could hear Dudley in his mind, calling her 'Rabbit' and teasing her relentlessly. Dudley would then isolate her, convincing his 'friends' to torment her with reckless abandon. Maybe make a comment about bunnies fucking.

 _Oh, he'd have a field day with you._

"Hello, I'm Hermione Granger." She smiled and stretched her hand out to Harry. He took it and named himself Jerry. Granger then greeted the Witches similarly. Daphne, though, hesitated slightly before taking her hand.

"Granger…" Daphne drawled, "I'm not particularly sure if I have heard that family. Are you a Muggleborn?"

Granger nodded. "Yes. I didn't see you come to King's Cross Station by car."

"That'd be because there's a lot of people _and_ I came by Floo."

"How're you liking the place?" Tracey asked. "I mean, I've heard some things that the Muggleborn have said about the Wizarding community—some good, some bad."

"I would say that it is rather different on numerous levels—socially and culturally," Hermione slowly started as Tracey hummed her acknowledgement. "But it's considerably more comfortable, especially with magic because, I mean, magic is an amazing thing to have and it's made all sorts of things better."

Tracey nodded. "Nervous?"

"Just a bit, I guess. How about you?"

Tracey smiled. "Perhaps. You know, I'd say don't be, but then you _are_ in a new world, so…there's that"

Harry decided to step into the conversation. "Which House do you think you're going to get into?"

"Haven't you got another question, _Jerry_?" Daphne asked, her voice dripping with amusement.

"Well, it's a question that's applicable until we're in our Houses."

Hermione decided to answer the question. "Presumably Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. Ravenclaw due to books and Gryffindor because it values bravery."

Daphne scoffed. "You'd rather not be in Hufflepuff or Slytherin?"

"Err…I'd rather not be in those Houses due to a variety of reasons." Hermione seemed rather nervous as if suspecting that she was saying the wrong thing.

"Oh, do tell," Daphne maintained a neutral tone.

Hermione didn't say anything for a bit. "Hufflepuff because I'm not particularly patient. As for Slytherin, it's the cunning aspect that I don't inhibit. I've no patience or skill in being 'cunning' as Hogwarts: A History says."

Daphne said nothing in response, letting a blanket of awkwardness to settle over the group. But the awkwardness lasted for only a moment as the boats suddenly lurched forward, causing Harry to grab the sides of the boat. There were a few screams and a deep laugh that reached the very depths of the lake. They moved surprisingly fast for seemingly old boats. They glided through the lake, the castle peeking out behind a cliff. It was both surreal and interesting for Harry; surreal because of the view and interesting because of the way that the people around him reacted.

Some 'oohed' while others 'aahed,' and others still stared around them, wide-eyed. There didn't seem to be one person who was captivated by the sight, well, other than him.

"Put yer heads down!" Hagrid suddenly bellowed as the boats floated underneath a massive opening in a cliff that was covered in a lush curtain of vegetation. For a mere moment, they were encased in the darkness that Harry was all too familiar with before it retreated back into the depths of the cage, having been chased away by the sudden light of the moon. Finding themselves back in an open area, Harry's focus shifted from those around him to the thing directly in front of him. It was the castle that seemed to span for miles and miles.

As they neared it, Harry silently marvelled at its size and maintained his nonchalance. The boats went ashore and the crowd got off. As the group was led into a labyrinth of hallways and passages by a stern Witch named Professor McGonagall, Harry could feel something encasing him, and without explanation, he found himself walking with a newfound confidence. After walking for some time, the Professor managed merely waved a wand to open immense oak doors effortlessly and led the group of children through to the very front of what seemed to be the equivalent of a monolithic multi-purpose room.

Students of all ages were seated at four tables that stretched the length of the room. Eyes stared at them, watching their every move as whispers flew through the tables at tremendous speed. Harry could feel the hair standing on his back, though he couldn't tell whether or not it was due to the sudden attention or something else.

Once they were at the front of the room, the Professor stood at a podium, directly in front of a lengthy table where Wizards and Witches of all shapes and sizes resided.

She spoke, though Harry barely listened to the words. He was more focused on the things around them. Ghosts floated around, having conversations in the middle of the air while Elves popped in and out, serving food to the Wizards and Witches. Sure, Harry had read about all these things, but seeing it before his eyes was completely different.

Before long, the Professor started calling names, summoning them to the front. Harry watched with interest as Hannah Abbot went up to a stool where a ragged hat resided. She put it on and it immediately shouted "HUFFLEPUFF!"

Two things happened a moment she put it down. One of the four tables, likely belonging to the Hufflepuffs, filled the room with the applause. The other thing was that the Witch was briefly enveloped in a faint light as her robes were embroidered with black and yellow. As she stood, having not noticed the change in her robes, the light dissipated. She took a seat with the other Hufflepuffs and on continued the world.

Name after name was called, each person being assigned to a particular House. Tracey was sorted into Slytherin, as she had predicted, and so did Daphne. Hermione was sorted into Ravenclaw. And quickly, it was Harry's turn.

"Potter, Harry!" the Professor called out. That name—his name—caused a momentary silence to blanket the room. Then from all sides, whispers fizzled into existence and ran up and down the tables at breakneck speeds. The moment they reached his ears, his head had been trapped in a tightening vise. He moved his body, not feeling entirely in control. Up to the seat he went and sat on top of the seemingly rickety chair.

The flimsy Hat seemed to have been made of coarse fabric. An intriguing piece of magic, the Hat, as magic seemed to hum under its surface.

The moment he placed it upon his head, he felt something try and slip into his head. He could 'feel' it in his mind, doing its best to penetrate the walls that he had set up. Fear crept into his stomach, causing pain to take over. He had taken far too much time to build those walls and he couldn't let them break.

With every ounce of strength that he had, he fought that _thing_. Every second, he desperately fought to keep the floodgates shut, to keep those memories from making their gloriously wretched return. And without warning, it stopped—retreating back to wherever it had originally come from. Then a thick, raspy voice filled his mind.

" _All I want to do is to Sort you, Harry,"_ It said. _"You know, it's not particularly difficult…"_

"And I," Harry found himself thinking instead of saying, "would prefer nothing in my head other than me."

" _In that case, how about I promise that I don't bring those memories of yours up, and you let me into your head, eh? Just a word of warning—and this isn't a threat, just a heads up—I've been instructed to Sort a student by any means necessary. And by Merlin's beard, I certainly don't want to use force 'cause it's ludicrously uncomfortable for the two of us."_

For a bit of time, silence reigned supreme in the Wizard's mind. "No confrontation is better than any at all, I guess." And reluctantly, he stopped trying to resist the Hat's 'probe' and embraced it, if that made any sense.

" _Huh,_ " The Hat breathed, "so much in such a short life. You know, it's refreshing to actually be in someone's mind for more than a bloody second. It gets far too _fucking_ _boring—no chance to actually talk to the people. Or if I do, it's only to the Headmaster."_

"Doesn't he have things to say?" Harry queried. After all, a Headmaster for so long—and with such renown—shouldn't be too boring to have a conversation with.

The Hat snorted. _"Normally, he does. But with the arrival and leaving of Tom fucking Riddle, he's been far too busy for the past decade. People to meet, to counsel, and plans to put into motion to help the Britain recover. And some other crap."_ It paused for a brief moment. _"And no, I won't tell you about those plans. Confidential and such."_

"Are you done?' Harry asked instead, wondering why the Hat was wasting time.

" _Oh,_ _"_ the Hat started, _"_ _I'm sorry. Just wanted to speak to a person other than the Headmaster for a bit. Okay then, where shall I put you?"_

"You've really not spoken to other people, have you?" Harry queried. "We _could_ talk."

The Hat chuckled. " _I'm kidding—it's fine. Best get on with the bloody thing, right?"_ Harry didn't get a chance to respond as it immediately murmured several things. " _Merlin, this is interesting. There's all that stuff with the Dursleys. Oooh, and there's that bit at school which just fucked everything up. I_ _ **could**_ _put him in Slytherin. But then he'd do fine in any other House."_

"I'll—"

The Hat cut Harry off. _"You've got the guts for Gryffindor, the brains for Ravenclaw, ambition for Slytherin, and the devotion for Hufflepuff."_ Suddenly, the Hat spoke directly to Harry. _"What do you think?"_

Harry started again. "I'll stick with Slytherin."

" _Huh,"_ the Hat muttered, _"really thought you'd be more for Ravenclaw and, maybe even, Gryffindor."_

"Why in the world would I want to be a Gryffindor?" Harry asked, confused about what the Hat was getting to.

" _Oh, nothing. Well, it's something, I guess. It's that Gryffindor would make life easier for you, especially from what I can see."_

Immediately, an argument broke out within Harry. Either Slytherin or Gryffindor. The harder path or the easier one. Then a smile broke out on his face, utterly confusing the people watching him.

Without hesitation, Harry said, "Slytherin."

"SLYTHERIN!" The Hat shouted, causing Harry to flinch just a bit. " _Sorry about that."_ Just before Harry stood up and put the Hat down, he heard it say, _"Perhaps you can talk to me again someday."_

Harry sent a brief thought of affirmation as he set it down on the stool. As he stood up, he noticed that his robes had been embroidered with this captivating shade of green. A fevered applause reached his ears, and the interesting part was that, unlike every other time a student was sorted, _all_ the tables clapped.

Making his way to the Slytherin table (at least that's what he assumed it to be), saw a space next to Daphne. Sitting there, he heard her say, "That was far too long, wasn't it Tracey? Do you think that the sheer presence of the Great Harry Potter caused the Hat to go awry?"

"Maybe," the Witch in question responded. "I just think that The-Boy-Who-Lived with his sheer awesomeness, completely befuddled the Hat."

Harry smiled as he sat down; Daphne was watching him. "Well, I can't blame it. I'm just _such_ an extraordinary person."

"God, you're so full of it," Tracey said, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Ah well," Harry's smile threatened to slice his head in half, "I guess I am."

For the first time, the Professor had to call for silence in the Great Hall as whispers continued to fly from student to student. With surprising speed, the student body quieted, and subsequently, the Professor called out another name. From there, time flew with names being called out at surprising speed. More than once, he could feel someone looking at him, closely studying a new specimen.

Daphne sighed, jumping into her bed. No matter how coarse the material of the bed, no matter how cold the floors were, she couldn't help but feel a sense of exultation. She was free and had a full stomach.

A full stomach had been rare at home. Forced to down potion after potion, her stomach was always twisting and turning to the point that she was unable to keep most of her meals down. It got her the body that ordinary witches wanted…eventually.

Night after night of potions, her magic had acclimated and, much like her body, became used to the schedule of potion after potion. It reached the point that even after she stopped, similar effects 'naturally' took place. And that had prompted the…

Daphne cut off that train of thought.

She blocked off any thoughts related to those sleepless nights. There had been enough time on her hands to reminisce about those old, wretched times, so she shouldn't waste any more time doing that same thing.

"Hey Tracey," Daphne called out softly, making sure not to wake the others, "could you help me out?"

"With…"

"…those _things_ again." Daphne could feel Tracey's eyes lock onto her.

The brunette lit her wand and said, "Well then, I've got several powders and…potions in my trunk just there if you need any."

"I'm good."

"Of course, you are, Daph. You know, you're gonna need to try some out—they work like a charm. So, did you wanna talk about?" Silence met her ears. "I guess that's 'anything.' Let's see…we could talk about Harry."

"What about Harry?" Intrigue made its way into Daphne's voice.

Tracey chuckled softly. Daphne didn't want to know what was going through her mind. "'What about Harry?' she asks. Come on, what's the deal with him on the train, on the boat, and at the feast? Anything that you'd like to tell me?"

"All I think is that it would be good to be friends with him," Daphne said, failing to keep her tone neutral.

Tracey raised an eyebrow. "That's all?"

"Yeah." A smile was being carried along with her words.

"Oookay." Daphne knew Tracey didn't believe her. The brunette then said, "I guess your conversation at the boat and the jokes at the feast were you just wanting to be _friends_ with him. Maybe _close_ friends with him, Daph. Friends with benefits, perhaps," her tone trailed off, teasing her.

"Shut up!" Daphne said, blushing.

Tracey chuckled. "Are you blushing? C'mon, I can practically _feel_ it! You're not even trying." She let out a little gasp when she felt a pillow hitting her in the face. "Hey, that's not fair! How'd you hit me in the dark?"

"A little thing called magic," Daphne told her, her tone questioning the brunette's intelligence. "I thought you knew that."

It was then that Tracey yawned; Daphne hadn't expected her friend to talk with her all night, but she didn't expect her to be so tired either. Apparently, the day was finally getting to her.

"You should get some sleep."

"But," Tracey protested and promptly yawned again, "you're not tired yet. And you're the one who needs sleep more."

"I'll get enough sleep, Tracey. Now go to sleep—you'll need it tomorrow." Daphne knew that her thoughts would continue to pummel her long into the night. But who was she to deny her friend of sleep, to use her friend to distract her own mind?

The brunette sighed. "Sure, Daph. Just don't stay up too late this time."

"I won't." As her friend went back to sleep, she found herself retreating to her earlier thoughts about Hogwarts. What was she to do here? Learn, certainly, but other than that?

She could feel a wave of fatigue wash over her as she thought of the future. She'd gotten out of that prison of hers, and yet…

* * *

…he still felt trapped in their clutches—the pain and anger burrowing deep in his flesh. They'd taken control of his mind, but he'd managed to throw those damned Dursleys out the door and lock it. Still, they annoyed him, pounding away at the door and shouting at the top of their lungs.

Harry did his best to distract himself, preparing his things for tomorrow. He turned on one of the bedside lamps, knowing that the others would be fast asleep at this point. They've been drugged by the otherworldly food of the Feast, so what else were they supposed to do? Jump up in joy, suddenly energized by full stomachs?

He lay a set of clothes for tomorrow in arm's reach. It was a habit from his years at the Dursleys, to "minimize time" as Petunia said. He shut his eyes at the memory.

 _Auntie pushed him along, jarring the three-year-old. "Dress up." A simple command, an immense demand from a toddler._

 _Harry fumbled with his clothes, forgetting which holes went with which limbs. It was a labyrinth of cloth for the child, and he, despite his age, could feel a sense of dread._

" _Stop." The word was an abomination of anger, annoyance, and impatience. "Look at me." Harry complied._

 _THWACK!_

 _The sound echoed repeatedly in the small room they were in._

 _Harry felt his face burn with both pain and embarrassment. All he wanted to do was to impress Auntie._

 _The words: "stupid child" echoed within his mind as she proceeded to show him how to dress himself in the barely fitting clothes. When they were finished, she said, "The next time, dress yourself. I won't be there—and make it fast too. Don't you dare waste our time."_

Harry sighed and climbed into bed, closing his eyes again as he tried to get rid of the memory before he slept. He tried his best to get the shrill voice out of his head—to expunge those other, darker memories from the moment. He was in Hogwarts, where ghosts roamed and magic could be practised freely; the castle was no place for such memories.

He closed his eyes, keeping the memories at bay as sleep overtook him.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for getting this out nearly a month after the first chapter. I'm currently working on chapter 5, just so that I don't run into that stressful shitshow I had with the other story. School's a bitch. I had some peeves about tone in this chapter, but I guess it fits with what I'd had in mind before. Expect some changes in tone as more chapters are uploaded. And I also have to admit that I wasn't particularly happy with this chapter's quality, but I felt convicted to give you another chapter.

Thanks for those who reviewed, and I'm sorry to those who don't like Harry being in Slytherin. I genuinely did what I could with the Sorting Scene, but no inspiration was coming to me. Sorry random internet friend.

 **Magnuss** : More backstory is 'subtly' coming in the next few chapters. Not too subtly, though.

As always, reviews and suggestions are welcome. Happy reading.

HHS


End file.
